The Tender Winds of Spring by Joyce Dingwell Page B

messages on their gifts, in Sukey’s case a simple: ‘From Suk’, for her four little years evidently made her incapable of getting beyond that, then they encased the parcels in brown wrappings and gave them to Jo to be mailed.
    Then that was that. The effervescence went flat.
    Not such a handsome return, Jo thought, for the substantial sum that Abel Passant had passed over.
    She said this to Abel when he came in from the plantations, but he only smiled and shrugged, ‘The recipients at least will gain.’
    ‘That wasn’t the idea.’
    ‘Look, Josephine, you advanced. If only for a short while you went forward, not back. Isn’t that enough?’
    ‘At the price of all that money!’
    ‘I’m not complaining, am I?’
    ‘No.’ She looked at him estimatingly. ‘You must have a lot of money.’
    ‘Enough. Though you could say I could do with more.’
    ‘No one needs more if they have enough.’
    ‘For extra mouths.’ A pause. ‘To buy someone off.’
    ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
    ‘What I said.’
    ‘You have no extra mouths,’ she pointed out.
    ‘Not yet.’
    She decided to pass that one over. ‘And the buying off?’ she asked.
    ‘Want to hear the bitter story?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Then why did you ask?’
    She did not reply to that and a few minutes went by in silence. Abel Passant broke the silence.
    ‘How were the kids today?’
    ‘This morning diverted. This afternoon back to their old form.’
    ‘Then you’ll have to think of something else, won’t you?’ ‘I can’t, I’ve tried everything, and anyway, it can’t go on.’
    ‘What can’t?’
    ‘Always thinking of something.’
    ‘I suppose not. I suppose also you may think it pointless to work on three when only one is your goal?’
    ‘It’s not my goal, it’s all I can hope for.’
    ‘Honestly, Josephine?’
    ‘I told you what Gavin said.’
    ‘But honestly, what do you hope for? Be really truthful now. Would you really like to take three children with you to your marriage with Gavin?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well—if you say so.’ He shrugged and smiled thinly.
    ‘I am saying so.’
    ‘Out of conscience?’
    ‘Mr. Passant—’ she began.
    ‘Look, Josephine, don’t try to include any love for them on me. I’m too hard-bitten for that.’
    ‘They—they’re hard to love,’ Jo blurted. The children’s return to their clam-like state had disappointed and saddened her.
    ‘Agreed,’ he said. ‘So we’re honest at last. There is no love.’
    A long moment went past, Jo not trusting herself to speak. Again Abel broke the silence.
    ‘Heard from fiancé Gavin?’ he enquired.
    ‘No. But I saw him in town when I was with the children.’
    ‘That must have been a difficult moment for him, an anxious period of Which? Which? Which?’
    ‘Actually he didn’t look at the three,’ she admitted.
    ‘Of course not, not when you were there.’
    ‘I was flustered, dishevelled, untidy,’ said Jo miserably. ‘Amanda had discovered she’d spent two cents more on Catherine, so we had to go back to the store and do it all again. I had five different coloured lipsticks on me.’
    ‘Go on,’ encouraged Abel, obviously delighted.
    ‘We couldn’t meet, of course, he was on the opposite side of the street and it was peak traffic.’
    ‘So Gavin signalled you on and rang you later?’
    ‘He signalled me on.’
    ‘No ring?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Excellent, Josephine. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? What you needed? A delay. A pause. Instead of having to give him your answer in the time he set he’s now going to propose a deferment.’
    ‘I’m sure he won’t.’
    At that moment the telephone pealed, and yes, it was Gavin.
    ‘Josie?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes, Gavin.’
    ‘Feeling better, I trust, than you looked yesterday. Poor dear, those children certainly are getting you down.’
    ‘I was tired,’ she admitted.
    ‘And showed it. My dear—’
    ‘Yes, Gavin?’
    ‘You must be very certain over your choice. Unless, of